


It's Probably Steve's Hand

by TellMeNoAgain



Series: Avengers UnPacked [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, F/F, F/M, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Multi, Omega Verse, Scenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:14:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22760809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TellMeNoAgain/pseuds/TellMeNoAgain
Summary: Well, okay, as long as we're enjoying the A/B/O, let's keep going, shall we?  Part 3 incoming!~~~“Yeah, that’ll work,” says Tony, eyes alight with good humor.  “Shouldn’t let him too far off his not-a-leash the next couple days, anyway.  Keep him close.  If he’s going to get a crash course in self-defense, we should crash it hard.”“We will,” says Steve confidently.  “He’s a good pup, got good breeding, it’ll show through.  Already has.  You ready, Omega?”“As I’ll ever be,” sighs Tony, shifting to rise from the seat, his motions fluid and graceful, Harley’s coat draped over one arm with all the panache of a bullfighter’s cape.
Relationships: Bruce Banner/Natasha Romanov, Darcy Lewis/Jane Foster/Thor, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Tony Stark/Steve Rogers
Series: Avengers UnPacked [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1623790
Comments: 18
Kudos: 116





	It's Probably Steve's Hand

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is what happens when I read a recommended story that turns into reading TEN A/B/O fics, find out that there are no RULES for this shit, and decide, "Well, fuck it, if everyone's having fun in this sandbox, I'm going to, too."
> 
> You don't have to like it, I promise. But I had a whole lot of fun writing it.
> 
> Beta'd by my brave jf4m and mindwiped, who are easily the most courageous people on the planet, because I threw this at them and said JESUS CHRIST I DON'T EVEN KNOW. I'M SORRY, and then they corrected my spelling and caught my errors like the pros they are, anyway.
> 
> I've put links to the fics I read to learn about A/B/O in the end notes of the first story.
> 
> Every remaining mistake and all the broken things about the rules of this AU belongs to me. Me and 3 AM, baby.

Steve’s main concern and focus, when they pull up to the Tower, is to get the Pack inside, because he really thinks all of this could have been avoided if they’d just stayed in the den tonight. Sometimes omegas _absolutely_ have the right attitude towards leaving the den, and tonight? Tonight is an excellent example of why everyone should listen to omegas. 

He raises an eyebrow at Natasha, who nods, and motions for Sam to scruff Peter. The five pack members not touching Steve slide out of the limo slowly, with many backward glances at the three remaining. Steve lowers his rumble, releasing Peter, who whines until Natasha picks up with her own. Good. Peter’s in good hands, Natasha’s a reliable second. She’ll keep him calm and stable until Steve can get up there and they can sort through all of _this_.

Steve looks down at Harley, who is glassy-eyed with rumble and tear-stained with apology. He lowers his rumble to a whisper and says, calmly, quietly, “Okay, pup, we’re at the den.” He’s rewarded by a quick flick of Harley’s eyes upward, and then immediately down, submissive, even his scent so submissive, so careful. They’ll fix that later, too, but for now, it’s part of the lesson, so Steve lets it stand. He checks on Tony, who has tear tracks, too, and glassy eyes, and feels a frown slide over his face, just a small one. Tony looks up at him, calm, too calm, that damned calmness Howard trained into him, like ice, like iron, all wrong for any omega, but especially wrong for _this_ omega. 

“Yes, dear?” asks Tony, pressing down with his chin, emphasizing that Steve is still holding him. Steve does nothing, nothing at all, watching him warily. 

“You’re going to have to let me go, if you want me off of my knees,” Tony suggests, and then he leers, which, if Steve would ever slap him, it would be in this moment, right now. He surges forward, instead, and kisses his Omega, just to shut him up before he says anything they both will regret.

When Steve releases Tony, he doesn’t lean back. Steve got mad, he always does, and he said something stupid, which, yes, he also does that, too. Time to make it right before it festers. He presses his cheek to Tony’s cheek, on the side away from Harley, and whispers, just for his Omega’s ears, “I didn’t mean what I said earlier like that, I meant, I meant, Howard should have been ticked _for_ you, should have _protected_ you, should have beaten them all back, should have _won_ , should have been there, and I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Tony.”

Howard would have been there, but his pack Alpha was trapped in ice, trapped in ice and hundreds of feet underwater, and Howard was the kind of Alpha who needed careful watching, a firm hand. Steve knew the faultlines of Howard’s personality as well as he once knew Bucky’s, as well as he could trace Peggy’s, the rest of the Commando’s. Howard was wonderful, amazing, under Steve, with Steve there to guide him. Had Steve been there, had Steve _been_ there-

Tony trembles a little and Steve can’t have that. There’s a very short list of people Steve’s ever bared his throat to, and most of them are dead. Most of them are dead, and then there’s this man, this beautiful omega man, who struggles so hard and shakes the entire world with his greatness. If ever Steve were going to bare his throat again, it would be to Tony and no one else, and so it is unthinkable that Tony is trembling in his hands. He kisses Tony’s ear and repeats, “I didn’t mean it like that. I said it wrong, I always do, you know that.”

Tony nods, his scent glands rubbing across Steve’s, releasing vanilla/sadness/comforted and Steve sighs, because his own apple pie/apology/regret is less pungent but clearly there. They do this too often. He gets so mad, he says things, and he shouldn’t. He leans back, and looks into Tony’s sharp dark eyes. “You forgive me?” he asks, quietly, and hears Harley’s intake of breath and doesn’t care. The pup will be a grown omega some day, and will need to remember this, too, that being Alpha is more than just being _an_ alpha.

“Always,” promises Tony breathily. “Always. I shouldn’t have, at dinner, I knew what you wanted-”

“I like you sassy,” Steve reminds him. It hurts his heart to hear Tony apologize for being _Tony_. “I like you brash. I wasn’t mad at you, I wasn’t, I promise. I would tell you, I wouldn’t hurt you, not like that.” Never like that, never those words, those stupid words.

Tony nods, and closes his eyes, head tilting up in invitation. Steve will never not take him up on it, he dives in, mouthing the bond bite, trailing up Tony’s neck, sucking at his scentpads, one on either side. When he leans back again, Tony’s smirking, his real smirk, open and honest. “You’re distracting me,” he accuses Steve. “You’re seducing me to make me forget I’m upset.”

Steve can feel embarrassment creep up his neck. “I’m not,” he protests, but he knows he’s grinning back at Tony, which absolutely makes his protest seem false.

“Yes you are, you’re awful,” teases Tony, his eyes flashing with humor. “‘Just kiss the ommy, shut him up, make him fat with babies, that’ll make him happy,’ that’s what you’re thinking right now.”

Steve shifts, because no, it _wasn’t_ what he was thinking, it really _wasn’t, but.._. He smiles at Tony and says, “Well, now that you mention it, though…”

“Hey, it’s not me who’s terrified of whelping a litter of girls,” Tony chuckles, leaning back, scooting back up on the seat, obviously preparing to exit the limo, stretching his muscles out after kneeling for so long in one position. Steve lets him, lets him stretch and cover his weaknesses under the guise of sitting up, because Steve would do anything for this omega, and his omega asks for so little. He can wait, until Tony feels ready to move again.

“You’re scared of girls?” asks Harley, quietly, shocked, careful to keep his tone respectful, Steve notes with a smile just for Tony. “What’s- what’s scary about girls?”

“Nothing,” admits Steve, a little defensively. “It’s not the girl part I’m scared of, it’s the _omega_ part, with my super serum added in.”

“Oh,” says Harley, and clearly that’s the first time the concept has been introduced to him, because he repeats himself, quieter yet, “ _oh_.”

“Yeah,” breathes Steve, and then he looks at Tony, who smirks back at him, eyebrow cocked.

“Well, _I’m_ not scared,” Tony declares. “Hand me a water bottle.”

Steve digs one out of the refrigerator and Tony says, “Harley, hand me your coat.”

Harley passes him the coat, cautious, and Tony takes the handkerchief out of the pocket, wetting it down and scrubbing it over his face before passing it to Harley and indicating the pup should do the same. Tony presents his face for Steve’s inspection and Steve chuckles, teasing, “Perfect, as always, Omega.”

“Thank you, Alpha,” says Tony coquettishly. “You do say the nicest things.”

Steve swallows, because Tony _knows_ what that tone does to him, he _knows_ it, the hussy.

“Now, what to do about those,” muses Tony, leaning forward and lifting Harley’s chin, exposing the newly forming bruises there. “Too many paparazzi floating around to hope to hide them.”

Steve grunts and wraps a hand around Harley’s neck from the backside. His fingers cover most of the barely-purpling bruising easily. “Scruff him,” he suggests, a little unnecessarily.

Harley swallows and nods, “Yes, Alpha,” he says meekly. Steve watches as the pup’s muscles relax the longer Steve squeezes until the pup is clearly ready to follow where he’s pulled. _Good_.

“Yeah, that’ll work,” says Tony, eyes alight with good humor. “Shouldn’t let him too far off his not-a-leash the next couple days, anyway. Keep him close. If he’s going to get a crash course in self-defense, we should crash it hard.”

“We will,” says Steve confidently. “He’s a good pup, got good breeding, it’ll show through. Already has. You ready, Omega?”

“As I’ll ever be,” sighs Tony, shifting to rise from the seat, his motions fluid and graceful, Harley’s coat draped over one arm with all the panache of a bullfighter’s cape. 

Steve admires him, hand still wrapped around Harley, and then tells the pup, “Someday, you’re going to be just like him, you know.”

Harley looks back at him, wide-eyed, scrambling to follow where he’s dragged, and Steve chuckles, “You’re going to drive your Alpha, whoever you pick, absolutely insane, twist him up with how sweet and pretty and good you are, make him want to crawl after you over coals, if you say so. You’ll see, pup, you’re as fine as Tony, and your breeding already shows true, I promise it.”

Harley swallows, and Steve chuckles. “Okay, let’s go, can’t make Omega wait.” He guides them up and out, not caring how graceless and clumsy Harley might look, because if the paparazzi mutts want a story, a naughty pup isn’t going to sell many papers.

Tony is waiting, eyeing the crowd, and Steve offers him the crook of his free elbow. Tony takes it gracefully, leaning in to say, “Grip him tight, Captain,” and then they’re striding for the door to the Tower. They look, Steve knows, calm and poised and definitely not Pack Alpha and Pack Omega, because there is no pack here, they’re a very modern team of equal individuals. But if they were a pack, well, they’d look really good, is all Steve will admit to, a small spark of pride he lets burn deep inside. If they were a pack, they’d look really good.

~~~

Harley hates the paparazzi, hates that he’s being scruffed in front of them, hates that Steve thinks he has good breeding, hates that Tony was _crying_ and no one is _helping_ him- Steve just made him, like, suck it up for the press. He’s pretty sure he’d hate Steve, but that’s definitely not safe. He wants his bedroom in Rose Hill, he wants Mama down the hall, steady, calm, and most of all, he wants to take back the angry phrase he’d spat at Steve, because Steve is good, he really is, and Harley hates that he said it, when Steve’s the one who scents him so Harley can go walk outside and not be hassled.

Harley just pretty much hates everything, including the image of Tony, fat with babies, because that’s not, men aren’t, men are alphas or betas, not _omegas_ , and Tony’s not a girl, but he’s an omega, and fuck, so is Harley. And thinking about Tony, fat with babies, makes Harley think about his own stomach, and he has so many messed up feelings about his own stomach, fat with babies. 

Being this full of hatred and confusion with everything makes him want to hurl.

Or, well, maybe that’s Steve’s hand on his neck, covering the bruises, still heavy there, even though they’re inside, now, waiting for the elevator.

...it’s probably Steve’s hand.

Or maybe it’s _I’m not on a leash_ followed by _put it on_ , which are phrases he recently spoke that are circling like vultures above his head, over and over again. Maybe it’s that. Fuck.

Harley takes a deep breath and Omega slips out of Steve’s arm and presses a hand to Harley’s chest. “Not much longer, pup, gonna be in the den soon,” murmurs Omega. Harley tosses his head because he’s not sure how that’s supposed to make him feel _better_ , but when he’s done moving it, his chin sinks right back, low, held down by the weight of Steve’s hand on his neck.

“Shh, good ommy,” says Alpha, rubbing his fingers a little, just below Harley’s scentpads.

It shouldn’t make him feel better, thinks Harley mutinously. But it _does_.

“Gonna have to keep him close while it all settles,” murmurs Steve, which was something Tony’d said in the limo, Harley remembers, a little startled.

“Won’t Pep be thrilled,” drawls Tony, dropping his hand from Harley’s chest, and Steve gives a bark of laughter.

“We’ll figure it out,” says Steve, and Harley wants to know if he’ll get a vote on this or if it’s pack’s rules or what.

When the elevator stops, Steve’s hand drops, and Harley steps back, startled for a second.

“You keep up, pup,” directs Alpha, not turning to look at him, slipping Tony’s hand back into his elbow, patting it there. “I want you close, so you keep up.”

Harley gulps and says, “Yes, Alpha,” as loudly as he can, which, it turns out, isn’t all that loud right now, when he’s feeling so intimidated.

“Good ommy,” praises Tony, and it’s always hard to tell with Tony, but Harley thinks that might have been real praise, meant to encourage.

As they enter the central pack area, Darcy bolts up to Harley and says, “Oh, no, omegababy, Peter said, Clint said, you were so dumb. I knew I should have come, I knew it!” Her fingers trail over his neck, just a little, not painfully, just noticing. He pulls back from her fingers and scowls, and she gives him a pat on the shoulder, clearly willing to respect that he doesn’t want to be touched there right now.

“How would you have prevented the dumb?” asks Tony, sounding genuinely interested in her method.

“Oh, I wouldn’t have, I just hate to miss it,” says Darcy brightly. “FOMO, you know, gotta keep tabs on my crew.”

Steve snorts and she smiles up at him. “Yes, your Alphaishness? You need me? Or you need me to stop? I can stop.”

“Nah,” says Tony. “He’s just a little tetchy, he’ll settle down once we have a plan. Speaking of, did anyone come up with a plan while we were recombobulating me, downstairs?”

Steve steers Harley to the couch. He sits, and pulls Harley down next to him, arranging Harley like Harley’s just a _thing_ for him to arrange. Harley sits, miserably, wherever Steve puts him. _Yes, Alpha_.

“Okay, someone deal with that rotten pineapple,” says Clint emphatically. “I can’t, my nose can’t decode the messages and it’s killing me to just sit here and smell rotten pineapple.”

“Pup first,” agrees Tony, loosening his tie, which seems to be some kind of code, because pretty soon everyone is loosening their ties and unbuttoning shirts and tossing jackets over furniture, kicking off shoes and peeling down socks. Harley’s already sans coat, so he fiddles with his tie, his shirt, kicks off his shoes and then bends to deal with his own socks.

“Better,” declares Peter, with one of Natasha’s arms around him, and Clint snugged on the other side.

“All right,” sighs Tony, as everyone else settles onto one of the comfortable couches or chairs in front of him. He presses his hands onto Harley’s shoulders and says, “Go kneel, pup. No need to apologize, you already did that, you did a good job, but it’s clear you’re not done yet, so go kneel, finish it up.”

Harley hunches, but he doesn’t hesitate, because he’s not trying to smell rotten or be rotten, here. He doesn’t want to get kicked out. He wants to be Pack, it’s just, they’re all superheroes, and they all know what to do, all the time, and he’s just Harley. Steve says he has good breeding, but he says it like it’s buried under some not-good stuff that needs to be fixed.

Alpha spreads his feet to make room, pulls Harley close when Harley tries to kneel further out, close enough that Steve’s knees rub on Harley’s sides. He considers Harley for a long moment and then says, quietly, “We didn’t have time to fix this, not really, because I had to get to the bottom of the first thing, and then, well. But you’re worth the time, ommy. Whole pack’s sitting right here, because you’re worth the time. What’s eating you up now?”

Harley feels miserable, because everyone has stopped everything and he doesn’t actually know what’s wrong. Steve reaches down and lifts Harley’s hands up, holding them in his bigger ones, tracing across the bones of his knuckles gently. Harley shakes his head and Steve says, gently, “I think I can guess.”

Harley nods, because that would be easier, yes. 

“Last time you disappointed an alpha, he took off, didn’t he, pup?”

Harley startles, and then glares, because he doesn’t _know_ that he disappointed his dad. He doesn’t _know_ that, Steve can’t _know_ that, _Harley_ doesn’t know that. He glares, but he doesn’t lift his chin, or his gaze, and someone’s whining-it’s so annoying, makes it hard to think. When he takes a deep breath and the whine stops he realizes, shit, that was _him_. 

“Yeah, I figured,” says Alpha. His hands rise up to cup Harley’s chin, rub on his scentspots just a little. “Well, you’re not going anywhere, pup. You’re staying right here, right beside me. It’s going to be a bit messy, retraining you. But I’m set on helping you see the way the world _is_. You’ve been sheltered from it, maybe, we’ll call it that, but you’re as much ours, now, as Peter is, and we’re going to help you figure out your place.”

“We’ll all help,” offers Sam kindly, and there are murmurs of agreement after that. 

“No one leaves an omega alone in this den,” says Omega firmly. “We’re not built for it. Natasha and Steve will be with you, help you figure out your footing again, and it’s not going to be bad, pup, I promise it. Have you ever even seen anybody nip at Peter? Anybody take any bites out of you, before?”

Harley shakes his head, and Omega continues, “That’s right. You’re not in trouble any more, Harley, you said you're sorry, Steve forgave you, it’s done. You’re our good little ommy, Harley. And when Thor gets back, you can pal around with him, if you’re sick of Steve and Nat. You’ll have to learn how to be an omega _with_ _alphas_ , Harley.”

“Or you can blow them all off and come hang with me,” laughs Clint. “I may not be a cute ommy like you and Peter, but I can get around without getting throttled for naughtiness. I can teach you how to handle them as well as anyone else.”

“Oh, hey, yes, I’m offering, too,” says Darcy enthusiastically. “I can show you all of my Alpha-calming tricks. Here’s a free hint, don’t _push_ them when they’re already in angry protect-the-pack mode.”

“Okay, enough,” says Alpha, his voice fond, and he leans forward. “Eyes up, pup, look up at me.” Harley lifts his eyes slowly, a little afraid of what he might see above him, but it’s just Steve, just his quiet, calm, friendly face. “There,” says Steve, “That so hard to do?”

Harley nods and says, “It was hard.” He’s not trying to be sassy, he’s trying to make Steve understand that something has _shifted_ in the way Harley thinks of him, something that makes it hard to see anything but Alpha in front of him.

“I guess it should be,” Steve reassures him slowly. “You might not remember it from when you had an alpha as a kid, but it _should_ be hard, when you mess up that bad. You should remember it for a couple of days, be kinda cautious. That’s just smart.”

Peter adds, “That one time I snuck out to patrol, Harley, you weren’t here for it, but I swear I flinched whenever Steve sneezed for a week.”

“Oh yeah,” says Sam slowly, chuckling, “I forgot about that one. Instincts are instincts for a reason, Harley. You don’t have to fight them so hard.”

“Tony does,” mutters Harley.

The room rustles, unhappy with that response, but Tony snorts, dissipating the defend-our-Omega before it can even rise up. “Yeah, ask me how that’s working for me, sometime, pup. And even I’m learning new tricks, so don’t you dare try to argue you can’t. I’m a decrepit old omega and you’re new-minted. If I can learn new tricks, so can you.”

“I can’t imagine being an omega,” says Steve slowly. “I can’t imagine what it’s like to even be an alpha like your gym teacher. Even when I was sick all the time, before the serum, I was more stubborn than any other alpha around, had a temper I had to wrestle with.” There are various noises of mock-disbelief around the room that have Steve’s lips twitching, and Harley likes that, remembers that Steve likes his pack to tease him, too. 

Steve continues, his eyes kind, his voice just as slow and careful. “All I had at home was my sweet ommy mom, after my dad died from the flu, and it was like my alpha kicked in early, trying to keep her safe. But, Harley, Bucky’s dad was alpha, right next door, and over the years, well, I guess him and mom came to an understanding about how it wasn’t safe for her to walk around unscented. Or have me get raised up without anyone to guide me. I remember the first time I snapped up at him and he put me on my back, belly up, Harley. It wasn’t comfortable, and I was some scared, I guess, but I’ve never forgotten it, never forgotten that he used only what was needed to get me on my back as fast as possible and not one snap or snarl more.”

Harley thinks about that. He thinks about Steve’s hand, on his neck earlier, and all the stories he’s ever heard his ma tell about the alphas around Rose Hill killing or almost killing their wives and pups. He gathers up his courage to ask, in a voice so soft he’s not sure Steve can even hear it, “So you weren’t gonna kill me?”

“The second you slid to your knees,” says Steve, his eyes intent, his words emphatic, “I was done even being mad. That’s how it works, pup. That’s how we’re built.”

“Well,” drawls Tony, “that’s how it works when you pick a good alpha, Harley. That’s how you know you’ve got a good one, one that trusts you, one that you can trust.”

“Plenty of alphas out there who don’t know that rule about not one snap or snarl more,” agrees Clint in a hard voice. “And you’ll be staying away from them, that’s our job. That’s why you need a team.”

Steve nods. “Alphas aren’t _safe_ , but that doesn’t mean you’re in danger every second, Harley.”

“Just watch your mouth,” suggests Tony. “Don’t follow my example. Pick someone else. Pick Bruce, he’s never been throttled.”

Bruce chuckles, “Well, I don’t think you’re a bad example, Tony. You tread pretty close to the line, but I don’t think I’ve seen you misjudge it.”

Tony and Steve both blow out a breath and say, “Pick Bruce,” in unison, and then chuckle. Tony puts his hands on Steve’s shoulders, gently rubbing them, and Steve shifts under them, pressing back into them a little.

Sam offers, “And I can dig up some of my old self-defense stuff, Harley, we can work on it a little. The skills you need are things that betas who are raised by beta parents need, too, Harley, you just need, uh, _more_ of it, and _faster_ , since you’ve presented as omega. I’ve got some contacts in bond therapy, can get some stuff already designed for omegas. You’re not the only omega in the world who didn’t get socialized the right way.”

“Ma did her best,” mutters Harley defensively. “She had to work, we had to eat.”

Several voices hum noncommittally around the room, and Steve says, “I’m sure that she tried.”

He doesn’t sound sure at all, but Harley has spent the last hour or so kind of wondering about that, too, so he lets the defensiveness slide. 

“You’re not the only omega in the world who didn’t get close contact with an alpha young,” says Sam firmly. “And there are programs to help you understand how not to trigger an instinctive rage response, and how to calm it, if it happens anyway.”

“Although,” snorts Clint, “maybe just avoid saying anything that sounds like, ‘what did your last slave die of,’ when one’s already pissed at you.”

Steve and Tony’s lips both quirk up at that and Tony nods. “Yeah, that’d be smarter,” he sighs. “Sometimes it’s so hard not to poke that bear, though.”

“You manage just fine,” Steve snorts. “You don’t even miss it.”

Tony rubs his hands across Steve’s shoulders and his smile goes a little soft as he purrs, “Well, there are compensations, yes, I suppose.”

Peter and Clint make gagging noises and Bruce says, “Oh, go den up for a few hours if you’re gonna be like that.”

“Can’t,” says Tony. “We have to strategize. The pups stumbled on a serial killer and that’s Avengers business.”

“A serial killer?” squeals Darcy.

Steve pats the couch beside him and Harley quickly dives up for it, because _good talk, team_ , but he’s so ready to not be under the collective examination of everyone he’s trying to impress these days. Tony shifts one of his hands to Harley’s hair, ruffling through it, before pressing his hands to Steve’s shoulders again, soothing little circles that make Steve tilt his head back.

“An assassin,” corrects Peter.

“Yeah,” says Clint, “ _the_ assassin, according to Natasha.”

“Winter Soldier,” she says quietly. “We must do something.”

“No shit,” says Darcy, awed. “Well, okay, let’s get cracking. Are you going out tonight?”

“No-o,” says Steve, slowly, drawing it out. “As much as I’d like to, we have priorities here, and when was his last mission, Peter?”

“Two weeks ago, we think,” offers Peter. He tells Tony, “I’ll give you all of my data. All of it. I’m sorry, I guess I just wanted to make sure, and then, when we knew we actually had something, well. I-guess-I-wanted-to-show-off,” he finishes quickly, in one breath, ducking his head a little.

“Sneaking out on patrol,” chides Natasha, scruffing him a little beside her.

“I didn’t!” protests Peter, a little panic in his tone as his head rears up. “I didn’t sneak, I don’t, I don’t do that!” He glances over at Steve before returning his gaze up to Natasha, eyes wide. “I wouldn’t, any more. I _wouldn’t_.”

“Mm,” she hums, quellingly, and then says, “Well. You were not exactly forthcoming.”

“But-” he protests, and she raises a single eyebrow. “Sorry, Alpha,” he mumbles.

“Good ommy,” she tells him, nodding. “Just as you should be. We are not trying to stop you from your work, we are trying to keep you safe while you do it.”

Peter nods. “I know. I do. I know.”

“So what are we going to do about the _assassin_ ,” asks Darcy, clearly bored with all the pack dynamic discussions.

“Well, first, we’re all going to go to bed and sleep,” says Steve. There are groans all around the room, and Harley shifts closer to him, because sleep sounds good. He’s on Alpha’s side, here. “And then tomorrow, we’ll look at the data and see if we can set a trap.”

“Is he an alpha, or what?” Bruce ask Peter. “Because if he’s just a beta, there’s no way to sniff for him, but if he’s an alpha, we might be able to figure that out.”

“Oh, uh, definitely alpha,” says Peter. “Definitely.”

“All the anecdotes mention there’s something wrong with his scent,” adds Harley, trying to be helpful. He did half of the research, too, he _helped_.

Natasha nods. “Cold, it was cold, like it was dead, weeks old, even when- well, even when it had to be fresh.”

“Suppressants?” Bruce asks Peter, who shrugs.

“Could be,” Peter tells him. “Although, how do you think- what kind would make it smell weeks old?”

“Well, not blockers,” Bruce says musingly.

“Yeah,” says Peter, and Harley shifts, because if they’re going to go all biochem, no one else should have to sit around listening to it, _snorefest_. Peter tried to explain how genetics worked the other day and Harley’s pretty sure no one cares, it’s been around for awhile, but it’s scientist stuff, stuff nobody but doctors and other scientists ever have to learn about. Peter says everyone should know about basic genetics, like it should be taught in schools, but no thanks, Harley’s much happier with engineering, and how could it possibly help those omega girls with their lives? Or the alpha guys, who can’t sit still to do experiments?

Steve must be in agreement because he cuts over the beginning of their discussion with, “You can hash that out tomorrow.”

Tony stretches and says, “Tomorrow. Tomorrow for everything, I want my den. Anyone have any other huge revelations to share with the class? No? Because I’m not shock sick yet, but we can keep trying for it.” Everyone shakes their heads, and Harley’s relieved. 

“Good. Greatness. Go to bed.”

“Peter, in with us,” says Natasha, and the omega sighs. “You need careful watching,” she tells him.

“I didn’t sneak out,” Peter says miserably. “I promise, Alpha, I didn’t.”

“And yet, tonight, I need you close,” she says, in a voice of false shock. “I wonder why that is, Peter?”

“Because sneaking _around_ is pretty close to sneaking _out?”_ asks Clint, in a tone of false guilelessness. 

“Bingo,” says Natasha. “Bed. Mine. Now.”

Peter sighs, and nods, and stands to lead the way.

Harley can feel Steve shift, take a breath, so he asks the alpha, “I’m with you tonight, right?” in a small voice.

“Yes, pup,” murmurs Steve, his arm tightening around Harley for a moment. Harley nods and says, again, “I _am_ sorry, for that, too, Alpha. For, uh, _sneaking_ , for helping Peter chase after that guy. I didn’t think, it was just so excitin’ being asked to _help_.”

“You are such a good omega,” Steve tells him, and he’s Captain America, so he’s probably not lying. He probably has forgiven Harley for those stupid words.

“Bed,” says Tony firmly. “I’ll go inform Pepper once again of why she should never let us go to galas without her. She’ll be thrilled.”

Steve chuckles and stands, pulling Harley up with him. “Bed.”

Harley nods. He can’t get in trouble in his sleep, can he?

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, I'm just having so much fucking fun.


End file.
